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The Taking of Kobold Hall
This is section one of a novella written about the early coming together and exploits of Dremelor's Troop... Iron Mountain Mal woke. He was in a strange bed, in a strange room and all he was sure of was that it hurt to even breathe. Then he remembered. The rush of battle, the Dark Horde closing in on his men and that field general with the glowing red eyes. He was about to force himself to sit up when the door swung open and a dwarf ambled in with a large steaming tankard. “Don’t try to move”, he thundered as he raised his hand as if to push Mal back down, “you’re not ready for that yet.” “What place is this, who are you”, Mal questioned sharply as pain shot up from his gut. “You’re in the Iron Mountain, now don’t try and talk – don’t try and do anything just yet. You are safe tiefling and you are with friends. My name is Galdane Ironscar, but most call me Dane. I am council to the King of Iron Mountain and at your service.” Dane was a sturdy looking dwarf, he had ruddy hair that fell in three large braids off his chin. He was a bit older, but looked more than able to take care of himself. His arms and legs were like tree trunks coming off his body and his chest stuck out powerfully as he entered the room. His voice was powerful and booming and though he looked stern at first, Mal could see the compassion as he reacted to Mal trying to speak. “I am Malvain Dremelor, First Lieutenant of the Onyx Legion - what of my men!” Mal spoke in a much softer tone. The pain was still there, but he had thoughts rushing back as he was recalling what put him in his predicament. The dwarf paused and looked to the floor for a moment, “We’ll talk of that when you’re a bit better. For now drink this tankard, the tonic inside will bring you back to strength.” He then left the tankard on the table and left the room without another word. Mal knew of the Iron Mountain, their lands bordered his country of Koorin on the North. Koorin had been hit by the invasion. The Dark Horde poured out of the mountains and washed over Mal’s homeland with ferocity and with little warning. Mal remembered the late warning, the massive force that seemed to have no end and the giant of a man that led them. He had a large winged helmet and glowing red eyes, he was the sort of man you would use to tell ghost stories to children to scare them – yet there he stood. Mal never locked swords with the beastly man, once the fighting started Mal lost track of him as his attention was on the circle of men he commanded that were around him. In fact it was when one had fallen that Mal lost his memory of the battle. Mal rushed to his side and began to work on him when the sharp pain of a blow to his back sent him hard to the ground. Mal explained all of this to his dwarven host as the days went on and his strength returned. Dane sat, listening, smoking a long pipe and twirling one of the braids in his beard as he reasoned out what he was hearing. “Glowing eyes, winged helmet. Seems the Dark Horde is led by the one they call The Warduke. He is nasty business indeed. Luckily you were well armored on your flank, do you spend a lot of time in battle with your back to the fight?” “A lieutenants purpose is the leadership and care of his men, it’s a prime tenant of a tiefling warrior.” Mal felt defensive, though he knew the dwarf was jesting a bit. “That’s the difference between tieflings and dwarves I suppose”, Dane spouted as he continued to badger Mal, “dwarves don’t assume they’ll need help we simply never fall.” “I am well enough to fight you know, especially you.” Mal was playing along, but the fire in his belly was beginning to kindle a bit. “Enough, enough”, Dane chuckled, “you’re a strong willed warrior, that is for certain, you keep to your rest now, can I get you anything?” “A book would be nice, something on military history if you have it, General Stonebones perhaps?” “Stonebones, Dane stopped for a bit as Mal mentioned him, you know of Stonebones?” “quite a bit actually, but all I have read has never been from a dwarven scribe and he is after all one of the greatest of dwarven generals.” “Indeed,” Dane answered proudly, “I will see what I have.” Mal had still not heard of the rest of his men, or how the war was waging and it was beginning to worry him. Each time he brought it to Danes attention he would deflect it to something else and Mal knew that couldn’t mean anything good was to come of hearing about his homeland. The next time Dane returned he carried a tall tome for Mal to read, but Mal had turned his focus solely on getting answers. “Alright Dane”, he began before Dane even took his seat, “tell me what has come of the battles in Koorin. Trust me I am prepared for the worst.” “Prepared for the worst,” Dane began with a snort as he sat on his chair and packed his pipe, “whatever you consider the worst, you should double that to begin to understand.” “I need to hear it Dane, give to me straight” Mal sat up and braced. “It is not an easy thing to put forth my friend.” Dane paused and composed a bit as he knew he was about to crush Mal. “The battle has ended Mal, and Koorin is no more.” “No more”, Mal questioned in astonishment, “what do you mean no more?” “The land of Koorin is no more, it has been cleared from the map.” Dane could not look Mal in the face as he said it. Mal was shocked. As prepared as he was, Dane was right he was certainly not prepared for that. “It was The Warduke and his Dark Horde”, Dane looked up at Mal though his head still faced the floor, “he is not from this world, and until you have seen the effects of his merciless hand, most do not believe he even exists. It is said, only in the year of the Blood Moon can Warduke be summoned. There is a diabolical ritual that must be performed to bring him to our world. All sorts of beings are said to feel compelled to trek to the ritual site as the rite advances until it’s final moments when an army has amassed and their leader crosses over to our world. Once here, Warduke and his Dark Horde are said to be unstoppable until the end of the Blood Moon year. The Dark Horde leaves a path of devastation behind it as they kill, pillage, enslave and ultimately burn all in its path. I myself thought it a human fable until he rumbled across our plains and engulfed Koorin.” Tears streamed down and Mal turned dizzy instantly. Dane rose to his feet and put his hands on Mal’s shoulders, “I am sorry friend,” he said as he looked into Mal’s eyes. There was little life in Mal’s eyes, and Dane could see it, Mal sat there staring into nothingness and Dane was left further saddened. “Well, again, I am sorry my friend, it is a hard thing to tell and harder to hear I am sure. I leave you with the ancient family record of General Stonebones, I will check on you in a few hours.” Dane watched Mal for any response, but none came. Mal just sat with a glaze about him. Dane backed out of the room hopeful for something, but Mal was still in shock. A few hours past, Dane smoked his pipe and paced the halls of the Iron Mountain. When he finally decided it was time to check on Mal, he found him still staring. He was certainly afraid to find him like this and went about fixing it the best way a dwarf knows how. He squared up Mal right in the center on him and looked him again in the eye. He waved his hands in front of Mal’s eyes, but still nothing. Dane growled a bit and muttered under his breath then smacked Mal across his face. It seemed to have little effect, but it did snap him back to. “Dane”, he said half questioning, “Where is this Warduke?” Dane was glad to see him back and almost chuckled at the fact his smack went seemingly unnoticed. “The Warduke is gone, continued on, there is little to be done about him at the moment, at least for one man.” “Is there no army to raise, is Iron Mountain not to stand against this foe,” Mal stood for the first time in a week. “Malvain, my friend, please, you are stronger yes, but not fully healed. There is no army here, the Iron Mountain has long stood against evil but our numbers have become so few, we no longer field a standing army. Most have moved on to Hammerfast where goblins and orcs are not a constant concern, at best we have a defensive force, we rarely leave the mountain itself.” “But you carry yourself as a warrior, will you not stand with me?” Mal was trying to reason out exactly what his new friend was made of. “Oh I am trained for battle friend, have no illusions otherwise, I am a dwarf after all.” Danes pride beamed from him as he retorted to Mal. “Perhaps Hammerfast would be more willing to offer assistance,” Mal was thinking out loud. “Perhaps,” Dane answered, “It’s a long journey to Hammerfast however, I will see if there is a trade caravan heading there, perhaps you could go with them, it is far too treacherous to go it alone.” Dane could tell it was going to be impossible to hold Mal back now that he had knowledge of what Warduke had done. “I would appreciate that,” Mal said as he clamped down on the top of Dane’s shoulder. Dane left Mal, “I will retrieve your armor, I have my men mending the rear plate, but it should be complete.” “Again, I appreciate that, and all you have done for me Dane.” Dane nodded and left the room. Mal’s thoughts raced a mile a minute as he tried to reason out a hundred scenarios at once. He asked and answered himself many a question, would Hammerfast help him, where was this Warduke now, could he use a small force to try and get directly to Warduke, who would have summoned Warduke, what purpose does his path of destruction serve for his summoner. It was too much to actually figure, but it was just the way Mal’s mind worked off the battlefield. Mal was very inquisitive and always had questions to ask. The more knowledge he could amass the better prepared he could be and Mal was quite obsessed with being more prepared than his foe. It was the one advantage Mal could control himself, he couldn’t assure to have the biggest or mightiest force, but they would always be the best prepared. It ate at him as he paced in his room, it was then he saw the tome dedicated to General Stonebones. Mal had read of him before, but never from a dwarven scribe. He tore into the large book to keep his mind from overworking the issues at hand. It was a fascinating read for him and he knew dwarven writers to be very literal in their approach. Compared to the tales written by men, there was little difference. Men were certainly prone to stretch the truth, but General Stonebones seemed to be as much the stalwart leader of men that Mal had already found him to be. After some hours, Dane returned, “we leave in the morning,” he said as he burst in. “Excellent, how long to Hammerfast?” Mal wondered as he held his spot in the book. “It is a full weeks journey,” Dane answered, “we feast tonight, head through the mountain tomorrow and by three days we will be to the ship headed to Fallcrest.” “Have you travelled this route before,” Mal stuck a paper in the book and rose to his feet. “Myself, no, but plenty who will be with us have done it countless times.” Dane almost seemed ashamed as he admitted this. Mal noticed, but did not give it any regard. “So, Fallcrest,” Mal again began to think out load, “that’s the Nentir Vale, I haven’t been there either, I am not one for new places generally, but I have read much of the area,” “Very good,” Dane said as he motioned for Mal to follow him out of his room. “Where are we heading,” Mal questioned. “To the Hall of Arms,” Dane said with a smile, “you’ll need more than armor.” Mal followed, and Dane led proudly down the grand halls. The craftsmanship of the Iron Mountain stronghold was nothing like Mal had ever seen. The hallways and rooms carved into the mountain itself with what seemed perfect precision. Many a dwarf stopped to look at the Tiefling who had been cooped up for days. Mal nodded and tried to smile as he walked, but he felt about as awkward as he ever had in his life. Dane just marched on, unaffected by the attention, and made his way to the doors of the Hall of Arms. He burst open the door and Mal saw before him a large assembly hall with walls lined with enough weapons and armor to outfit a small battalion. “Magnificent,” Mal exclaimed, “what a fine display.” “Indeed,” Dane said as he puffed out his chest even farther than usual, “and I have a special blade for your approval.” He continued to a section where two dwarf woman were busy sharpening axe heads. “Aldrinna,” Dane proclaimed as he caught one of the women’s attention, “the blade please.” She nodded and hurried quickly into a back compartment. She pulled a large blade from the cabinet and brought it forth. It was not a dwarven blade, nor was it made for a dwarf, but even at a distance it looked quite impressive. She handed it to Dane who offered it hilt first to Mal. “It is a glorious blade,” Mal said as he grasped it. After a few moments or wielding it, slashing and flipping the grip around and catching it again, he came to a realization, “and magical.” “Indeed,” Dane answered with a large smile, “This was retrieved from the outer mountain, and has been in our hold ever since. We are not a warlike clan Mal, and we are also not in the custom of trading anything not made by our hands.” “I thank you for your generosity Dane, it is the finest blade I have wielded.” “May it be an extension of your strong arm my friend.” “Stonebones,” Mal said with excitement, “that is Stonebones.” “Indeed,” Dane gave a wink, “now let us feast!” Dane led Mal to a private dining hall where Mal was to eat with the nobles of Iron Mountain. He the Iron Mountain Council of elders, all of whom he had actually heard of, some for past battle and some for their dealings with Koorin. They were all interested in Mal and Mal of course had many questions for them. Mal had a grand time and for the first time since he woke in the Iron Mountain, he was doing something rather than focus on the physical and mental pain he was in. Perhaps it was the mountainous tankards or the constant conversation, but Mal had a very good night indeed. After he was stuffed with food and drink he took in a good night’s sleep. It was to be an early morning and a few days of travel before he would sleep in a bed again. The next morning a pound at the door woke Mal. “We depart within the hour,” a voice said from the other side. “Very well,” Mal replied in a half wakened tone. Mal readied as hurriedly as he could. He was moving without much pain and that was a new thing for him. He latched his armor and strapped his new blade onto his waist. He headed out and met up with Dane and a seven other dwarves at the outer gate of the hold. They travelled by three large wagons that were filled with all sorts of goods to trade. Mal was impressed with the efficiency with which the dwarves worked. There was very little in the way of direction given, everyone seemed to know their job and were busy about doing it. “What can I do,” Mal offered as he caught Danes eye. Dane was busy talking over the route with some of the others. They all talked over a map and Dane seemed to be doing most of the listening. “Mal,” he lit up as he saw him, “slept well I hope.” “Indeed, it was a fine sleep indeed.” “Good,” Dane took a drag off his long pipe, “you’ll be in the middle wagon with Hallun Bronzebuck and I.” Dane then pointed to one of the dwarves he had been talking over the route with. We’ll be mostly charged with keeping an eye for bandits and such. Mal nodded as Dane explained, “we’re ready then,” Mal surveyed the caravan and the dwarves seemed to be finishing up and making sure ropes and latches were tight. The front and rear wagons were flat bed wagons while the center wagon was a large wooden coach. Mal could only assume the more valuable things were in the center wagon and thus it needed the most protection. “Come now, we go,” Dane broke up Mal’s working these things out in his brain. “We protecting anything of particular value in the closed coach Dane,” Mal couldn’t help but ask, “not that it matters much, but I like to know what I am doing as much as possible.” “It’s arms mostly, furniture up front and some other metalwork in the rear. Nothing too impressive on this trip.” “Very good, off we go then!” Mel headed for the wagon and pulled his way up. “Here you are,” Dane handed up a bow and quiver to Mal.” These should work well for you, more remnants from here and there. I believe this was found near Koorin actually.” “Indeed, this is a Koorinian bow, I can tell by the notches here at the base.” Mal inspected it and drew the string a few times, “should work well, I’ll begin atop the wagon so we won’t be so crowded.” “Very good,” Dane grunted as he climbed aboard, but we’ll see no hint of trouble till be come out the backside of the Iron Peaks which will be about midday.” “Just in case then.” Mal would always rather be safe than sorry. The wagon train moved out and the enormous wooden wheels thundered over the stone pathway. It was quite loud, but a surprisingly smooth ride and the dwarves tried hard to drown out the rumble of travel with boisterous songs that they all seemed to instantly join in on. Mal sat and enjoyed it, he kept an eye on the caverns the further they were from the stronghold, but the indifferent manner in which the dwarves travelled gave him some ease about the whole thing. The train went on for quite a while, there were a few turns here and there, but for the most part it seemed a straight shot through the belly of the mountains. Mal took in all the oddities he saw, from the phosphorescent stones that lit the pathway to the craftsmanship with which the passage was carved through the mountain. It was quite a feat of engineering and Mal had never seen anything quite like it. It was after a stop for a meal of ale and bread that Mal noticed the light ahead of them. It was still a distance away, but he could see what was the unmistakable look of sunshine in the distance. It hadn’t seemed as long as he assumed, perhaps it was the dwarves singing, but Mal rather enjoyed the ride atop the sturdy coach. It wasn’t long before the wagon train breached the sunlight and found themselves in a green plush valley. The light stung everyone’s eyes and Mal was instantly on alert again. This was foreign land to Mal and while he thought he was unsettled in the caves, his guts tied in knots as he saw the dwarves not ready arms and don helmets. “Is there a threat here Dane.” Mal shouted ahead. “Perhaps.” Dane responded. “The further we go now, the more the dangers can be.” Hallun added. “What are we looking to encounter,” Mal scooted himself up to the front of the wagon to hear better. “Orcs in this valley,” Hallun began, “goblins and gnolls in the wood ahead and then just about anything in the fens.” “The fens?” Mal’s interest was instantly peaked. “The Witchlight Fens, it’s the gateway into the Nentir Vale, well it’s a stewy mess is what it is,” Hallun said with a chuckle. “We’ve seen all sorts of beasties in there, nothing that’s ever stopped us though.” “And how long till we are there,” Mal continued to question. Again Hallun answered, not long at all, it’s a quick shot out of this valley and then just a short time on the southern edge of the Harken forest. The idea is generally to get on the other side of the Fens before we bed down.” Dane sat silent as Mal questioned and Mal instantly found it odd. “Dane have you seen the Witchlight Fens?” “Nope,” he said quickly. Hallun laughed at the question. “Galdane? He hasn’t seen the outside of the mountain before have you?” “Nope.” Dane’s answer was the same, and he kept his look forward to where the wagon was heading. Mal kept an inquisitive gaze on Dane and after quite a while of the dwarf refusing to look his way he finally had to ask. “Never been out of the mountain? I thought it odd that I had never been adventurous enough to go into the mountain before, but that you have never left is quite a bit worse.” “I have far too much to do for his majesty to have time to venture off.” Dane was obviously quite upset about the conversation. Again Hallun laughed, “I imagine Lord Turin didn’t want you out of his sight,” Hallun said as he nudged Dane. He then turned to Mal, “Galdane is his favorite nephew you know.” “That’s quite enough,” Dane shouted in anger, “mind who you are speaking to Hallun Bronzebuck.” “Pardon sir,” Hallun said with half a smile and a quick wink to Mal when Dane turned back to face forward. The wagon went silent from then on through the valley and into the wood. The dwarves again readied themselves even more than they had before. Mal could feel tension build as they entered the canopy of the forest. “Goblins you say,” Mal questioned as checked the tips of the arrows Dane had loaded the quiver with. “Right,” Hallun answered in a bit of a quieted tone, “we come close to Daggerburg, a goblin keep in the wood, but usually they leave us alone.” Mal could feel eyes on them, though he couldn’t see anything. Dane too gripped his axe firmly as he scanned the trees for movement. The tense weight thick in the air as they went slowly through the twisty path in the forest. The wagons still were loud as they rumbled, but that was the only noise coming from the wagon train as it made its way. Mal was used to this sort of thing, so it wasn’t a foreign feeling for him, he could see Dane was a bit more jumpy. Dane quickly turned and focused in on every twig snap and branch flutter he saw as they rolled through. “How long till we clear the trees,” Dane asked at one point, “his eyes sharply watching the surroundings. “We’re about half way at that notch we just passed,” Hallun answered, “just keep your axe ready and you’ll be fine.” Dane wasn’t losing his nerve or anything of the sort, but Mal could see this was quite obviously a new sort of experience for him. It was then he saw it. “There!” Dane stood and pointed his axe to a small thicket. “I see it,” Mal confirmed. It was just a quick hint of a pair of red eyes that dashed as they were seen. “Just relax now, goblins are shifty and curious. They can watch all they want, there’s no need to attract attention. I doubt if it’s a scout party they will have the numbers to even attempt to attack us. We will most likely be clear of the wood before they could gather forces.” Mal didn’t know the Harken Wood, but he certainly knew goblins. He also wanted to ease Dane’s mind as best he could. As it turned out Mal was right, that quick glimpse of a goblin was all they had to deal with in the wood. Now they faced the Witchlight Fens, Mal could only hope they would be as lucky there as they had been so far. It was cold and nasty in the swampy fens. A narrow road rose up out of the muck, but Mal could see the drivers knew the path well as they steered their way through. “How long does this last,” Mal asked. “It isn’t long, but we can’t come out soon enou-,” It was then he jerked the reins back hard and nearly fell off the bench. The wagon in front had done the same and it took all Hallun had to not ram it. The mist of the bog was so thick it took a moment before Mal spotted a downed tree across the narrow path. “Does this happen often,” Mal was suspicious. “Often enough,” Hallun returned. Mal jumped down before Hallun could answer, he had a less than good feeling in his gut. A quick glance at the tree showed the chop marks and as he stood and focused his ears he could hear the sloshing of feet through the murky water. “To arms!” Mal yelled as he drew his blade, “Dane my shield.” Dane was half way down from the wagon, but quickly hopped the rest of the way and grabbed the shield and his axe from the wagon’s side. The dwarves quickly aligned as Mal pointed at the direction he heard the advancing feet. “From there if you listen close, but mind the rear,” he yelled out. Mal was in no position of leadership, but he took the reins instinctively and the dwarves fell in line without a second thought. A trio of dwarves drew bows and backed the rest. The dwarves stood with axes and hammers at the ready and Mal motioned with his hands to form the dwarves into a defensive formation. All looked and strained as they looked into the misty fog of the fens. The sloshing grew louder and louder as they drew closer and closer and then shadowy figures appeared. “What is it?” A dwarf questioned. “Goblins?” Another offered. “NO!,” said Rone Gallinson, “it’s bullywugs!” Out of the murk and dew sludged a half dozen bullywugs. They were unfazed by the dwarves at the ready on the road. “There’s more,” yelled one of the archers at the rear. “Split the lines,” Mal yelled as he recalculated, “back to wagon, and split back – archers on top.” The dwarves knew enough to know what Mal was saying. They backed to the front wagon and formed a wedge from the front of the horse. “You stay with me,” Mal said to Dane who wasn’t sure where he belonged. Mal made the point of the wedge and the bullywugs continued to bog bank. “Archers!” Mal shouted as he raised and dropped his sword. The archers loosed their arrows and all found their marks. There were only three archers however, and only one bullywug fell. “Again, the other side!” Mal shouted, and the archers followed the order perfectly again with three solid strikes. With the second wave of arrows the bullywugs charged. They had spears and it was quickly apparent to Mal that the tactic was to stab and drag the dwarves into the water. “Hold the line, stay out of the bog!” Mal tried to relay all he saw, “Archers continue at will!” As the arrows were now at all but point blank range the bullywugs had no choice, they came out of the water and engaged Mal and the dwarves. Mal directed the dwarves as best he could and soon the bullywugs that remained found themselves out positioned. From flanking positions the dwarves pummeled the bullywugs. Most of the dwarves were hardened enough fighters that they would have prevailed either way, but Mal was able to direct a near perfect defense of the wagons. “Well done my friends,” Mal congratulated as they looked over the fallen bullywugs. Who will help me move the blockade.” As Mal moved to the fallen tree all the dwarves followed and they cleared the path quickly. The dwarves then all loaded up onto the wagons and headed out as soon as they could. “Where there are some there are many more near,” Hallun said as he cracked the whip. Mal cataloged that fact about bullywugs and gave Dane a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Well done friend,” Mal assured his friend. “I know.” Dane shrugged Mal’s hand off. “Inexperience is nothing to be ashamed of.” Mal was puzzled by Dane’s reaction. “Ashamed!” Dane thundered, “dwarves know nothing of shame.” Mal leaned back into a crouch and said nothing more. Dane was content as well and again the wagon fell silent for a time. The fens were quite an eerie experience indeed for Mal. There were unfamiliar sounds and smells and the visibility was something that was quite a contrast to his homeland of Koorin. That thought reminded Mal of his home that was and anger burned up quickly. He let these thoughts percolate for a while before it boiled over. “So where is this Warduke now,” Mal blurted out, “Where is he next to attack.” Dane and Hallun said nothing. “Did you not hear me,” Mal sprung up to the front on all fours. “Mal!,” Dane’s anger was still there, “vengeance is not the way of the warrior. That is not where the warriors mind can be focused, you know this.” “Well General Stonebones never lost his homeland in the blink of an eye, if vengeance isn’t to be expected than what!” Mal was growing in anger. Dane turned to his friend, “A man cannot defeat the Warduke, no force can.” “So where am I going then,” Mal questioned, “If no force can stand to him, why do I take this journey?” Dane paused as he had no direct answer, Danes reasoning for Mal heading out with the caravan was to get him as far from what was Koorin as possible. “We will go to Hammerfast,” Danes tone got much lower, “we will seek audience with the war council there, but I cannot assure anything.” “You know it will not bring anything.” Mal perceived by Danes pause that something was afoot. “It is for your protection Mal,” Dane exhaled as he knew Mal was on to him, “I know that all you need is a bit of time to logically see where your place is. I am sorry, I wish there was another answer.” Mal sunk back. Hearing Danes words hit true in his mind, but he wasn’t willing to show that just yet. Mal continued to smolder and Dane was fearful of what this conversation would bring. Nothing more was said on the trip. Within an hour the caravan cleared the Witchlight Fens and found themselves in the Moon Hills. Hallun fought the urge to lighten the mood on his wagon, but thought better of it each time. It wasn’t long through the hills before Fallcrest was in sight. Dane brightened a bit at the site of the city, but Mal barely noticed. Part 2 of the tale is here ... Category:Event